


Lazarus Falling

by Davechicken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...So. Here he was. Trussed up like a turkey, bound to a chair. Cuffs around his wrists and around his throat a collar keeping his powers at bay. Below him a trap painted thick and sure. There didn't seem to be any getting out of this, and all of his demons were under strict instructions to stay clear of the Winchesters."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazarus Falling

Cas looked around. The Winchesters had brought him to some shitty ass place in what felt like the middle of nowhere. He'd grown increasingly disorientated in the trunk of the car, jostled around like a spare tyre. He'd tried to memorise the turns and listen to the engine sounds to estimate speed, but eventually even time lost its meaning and he just gave up. He didn't hear anything but the pacing of the two men outside. He could just about make out the faintest traces of their voices, but they weren't close enough for him to distinguish the words.

So. Here he was. Trussed up like a turkey, bound to a chair. Cuffs around his wrists and around his throat a collar keeping his powers at bay. Below him a trap painted thick and sure. There didn't seem to be any getting out of this, and all of his demons were under strict instructions to stay clear of the Winchesters.

Advice he should have taken, instead of letting his own hunger for power lead him to try and _deal_ with them. No, Castiel always had to _try for more_. He cricked his neck in the collar - hating the nasty, iron feeling - and narrowed the blue eyes of his vessel at his captors.

"You do know this is a ridiculous idea, don't you?" he asked.

The impossibly tall one shook his head, his perfect hair swaying like it had a mind of its own. Cas snorted. Trust the tall one to be silent.

"It's the only idea we got," Dean said. "And seeing as you kept all the other demons under lock and key..."

"I am aware that my own cautiousness has led to this predicament, Dean."

"Well." The hunter swallowed, his green eyes down to the ground. 

Time had been when they'd worked together.

Time had been.

"Let's... let's just get this over with."

And Dean came up with the first syringe filled with his blood. Castiel was helpless to resist.

***

"Well, we don't know what we're facing, other than a name," Bobby said. "Makes sense to pull out all the stops. Something gotta work. You ready?"

Sam nodded. He wanted to know who had been haunting him since his return from Hell. He wanted to know _what_ had the power to shatter windows and burn eyes from their sockets. He wanted it to stop.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

They did the ritual and waited. Weapons of all kinds - including the special knife - and Sam wasn't sure what he was going to need. Wasn't sure how he'd kill whatever it was that was following him around. 

The creature didn't show. Sam frowned. "You sure you did it right?" he asked Bobby. "I - just expected--"

The wind outside howled, and the two hunters readied their shotguns. Sam stared intently at the door, watching as it burst open.

There he was. Shorter than he expected: a man in a finely tailored suit. He wore a pale lavender shirt with a lilac tie and a dove-grey jacket and trousers. His shoes shone as he stepped through the door, and the volley of shots they poured into him didn't seem to make an impact at all. Instead, the man frowned and narrowed his amber eyes at them.

"Rude."

He stalked closer - pacing like he owned the room - and above them the lights shattered and fell in a rain of glass that didn't make him even blink. Sam had the knife out and when the short man got close he stabbed it into his shoulder. Again, not a blink. He did scowl, though.

"Now, is this really how you greet someone who pulled you from the pit, Sam? I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies." 

"You... what? What are you? _Who_ are you?"

"Name's Crowley," he said, not even breaking his stride as Bobby attacked from the side. He simply touched the man's forehead and he crumpled. "I'm your goddamn guardian angel. I think it's time you and I had a little chat."

***

Cas didn't feel any different. If the blood Dean had injected was supposed to do anything, it wasn't working yet. Not that he could tell. Mostly he was just pissed off that he was trapped here. Trapped here by two _humans_ , nonetheless. He narrowed his eyes and watched Dean pace.

The human looked... like hell, really. He looked almost as bad as he had done in Purgatory. There were lines around his eyes and a hollowness to his cheeks that was very unhealthy. It was more than just a lack of sleep... Castiel knew well what happened when you deprived a body of food, sleep and sanity. This was something bad. 

"Dean, you look like you would benefit from a... rest," he said, in order to catch the man's attention. He was pacing around like a caged animal, and it was making Cas' eyes hurt straining after him. 

"I don't need to rest, Cas. I'm doing just fine."

"No. You look like Hell."

"Was that supposed to be funny?"

"No." Cas shrugged. Dean always thought he was joking. He rarely was. 

"Good. Because it wasn't. Now..." he glanced down at his wristwatch. "It's time for the second shot."

Cas grit his teeth. He was not enjoying this at all.

***

They were in some motel room or another, and Sam shrugged at Dean. "Look, all I can do is try. If he doesn't want to--"

"Sorry, boys, I was somewhat otherwise engaged," said Crowley, appearing out of nowhere in that same perfectly perfect suit he always wore. "You know how it is. Hunting evil. Saving souls. Blah, blah, blah."

"Nice to see you, Crowley," Sam said with a smile. "Thanks for coming."

"You know me, Moose," the angel said with a shrug. "If I can help out my most annoying charges, I will."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, evidently still debating what to say, and the angel frowned at them. "You do know I can hear what you say even when I'm not here, right?"

"What?"

"You don't exactly keep a low profile. And you're _always_ yammering on. You should learn how to angel-proof things if you want to conspire. Honestly, I don't even know how the pair of you are still alive. Oh: wait. Both of you have died and one of you has been to Hell already. So there's that."

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Okay. Well. If you show us how to do it, then we'll do it. And. Uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome," said the angel. "Now you were going to hum and haw about telling me of your plot to circumvent Heaven's plan, and then likely tell me anyway."

"...yeah."

"Don't worry. I've been keeping your backstabbing contrivances from Heaven's radar."

"...dude, why?" Dean asked. "Isn't it... isn't it what they want you to do?"

For the first time the angel looked conflicted. His eyes and lips narrowed and his chest rose and fell. Normally he was the very picture of sophisticated nonchalance, but now he let them see something else. "Yes."

"So. Why are you covering it up?" Sam asked.

"What did Castiel have to say?" he deflected.

"Said that if we went ahead with letting Lucifer and Michael in, that it would be the end of the world as we know it," Dean replied. "Said if we let them go ahead, it would be the Apocalypse. And the Earth would be destroyed."

"I see. And did he say what his master plan was?"

"Stop Lilith. And Lucifer," Sam said.

"By...?"

"Wasn't too clear on all the details," Sam admitted. "He said we should talk to you. That you might be able to help. That you might... want to."

"That weasley little..."

"Whoa, Crowley, you and Cas got history?" Dean asked.

"Me and... 'Cas'? That's... that's complicated." The angel went to the window and stared out. It was dark outside. Dark and wet. Not the kind of day most would consider worth saving, but Crowley enjoyed these as much as the ones filled with sunshine and sand. 

He'd grown fond of the world.

Very fond.

He looked back at the two brothers waiting for his answer.

"Learn Enochian," he told them, and then vanished.

***

"Crowley," Castiel greeted him, without turning to see. He didn't need to.

"You realise I can't be seen dead with you?"

"You won't be," Castiel promised. "I've taken precautions."

"You didn't show the brothers how to cover their tracks..."

"I'm not their guardian angel, Crowley. You are."

Castiel turned, now. He was wearing... he was wearing a very strange ensemble. Crowley could sense the vessel he was in - like his own - was a perfect fit. It was a little taller and younger, with messy dark hair and blue eyes that shone like a summer sky. However Castiel seemed to have got dressed in a hurry, because whilst the suit he was wearing was smart enough, his blue tie was twisted backwards and the desert-sand overcoat was sort of haphazardly hanging from his shoulders. Trust Castiel to not fit in, even here.

Crowley stepped in and righted the tie.

"I know I am... Cas." The short name seemed to fit him. It was better than calling him 'Castiel'. That name had too many memories behind it.

"Then you agree with me. This world is too important to just... stop."

"It's what Heaven wants," Crowley reminded his - nemesis? Was that even the right word?

"When have I ever cared what Heaven wants?"

Crowley sighed. "It's the right thing. It's what the scripture says. It's what _He_ wants."

"Have you spoken to Him recently?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes. Of course he hadn't, and Cast-- Cas knew that.

"Precisely. All this 'it is written' and 'it is foretold'? John the Revelator was ingesting dubious circumstances when he wrote that book. Not to mention the countless... 'interpretations' in translation over the years." Cas even did the air quotes with his fingers. Crowley wondered how someone as old and powerful as Cas could still come across like a gawkish moron at times.

"We have to go on what we have been told. What our superiors have been told. It's what's destined to happen and--"

Cas sighed, loudly, interrupting his spiel. "Do not repeat the old lines to me, Crowley. I know you are fond of this world, and we both know what Lucifer and Michael will do to it. It is in both of our interests to work together on this. And the fact you came to see me after speaking to them shows me you know it to be true."

"I might have come to talk you down..."

He shook his head. "It wouldn't work. We both know that. Now you should know if you join me, we will be unstoppable."

Crowley vanished before Cas could say another word.

***

It was boring, more than anything else. Boring and humiliating. Here he was - the King of Hell himself, Lord of all the damned, ruler of the pit - and he was trussed up and _bored_. Dean kept ignoring his baiting. Kept looking at him with something bordering on _pity_ , and Castiel didn't want his pity. He didn't want the flickers in the man's green eyes.

Didn't want the judgement there.

"You know," Dean said, breaking the silence, hand rubbing over his wrist. Up and down. Up and down. "...we could have made a good team."

"We still could, Dean. You only need to let me out, and I will forget that any of this has ever happened."

"Like I'm supposed to forget Kevin, or his mom, or all those people you tortured?"

Cas shrugged. "There is blame on both sides."

"No, Cas. I thought you were different. But you were just lying. Like all you demons lie."

"I helped you get _them_ back."

"That... that was different."

"I run Hell, Dean, what exactly did you expect?"

"Just... shut up, okay. Shut up."

And in went the third shot. It sort of burned. It was not pleasant.

***

With Lucifer and Michael both locked away, Crowley never felt secure in Heaven these days. His outright rebellion had caused no end of disruption. And there were those who whispered about his allegiance. Accusations of _favouritism_ because of those two (annoying, but resourceful and surprisingly intelligent) human boys. Nasty little rumours that when he'd burned his way into the pit to rescue the Righteous Man that the pit had charred his wings. Stories about how he was letting _rats_ spread nasty little diseases in his mind.

Crowley could just about cope with those. He was very fond of his human charges - Sam in particular - because they were always up to something and he occasionally had to jump in to rescue their sorry asses... 

...but the rumours he couldn't handle...

 _Castiel_. It was no secret that now there was no Lucifer, and no Lilith, that Castiel was now de facto ruler of Hell. In fact, it would be hard for any being with the slightest occult knowledge to avoid the fact. It was also pretty common knowledge that Castiel had been orchestrating his coup for some time.

And now he was ruler.

And Earth was still intact.

And those nasty, angel voices whispered that it was no co-incidence. That Crowley was somehow... _in league_ with him.

Like it was some dirty, sordid affair.

Crowley left the peaceful Heaven he sometimes visited - the one where some civil servant or other had a perfectly arranged house with a well-stocked and organised library and good single malt, a precise, orderly garden and grandchildren laughing in the distance - and he went down to Earth.

He was staring in at Dean, wondering at how the hunter had somehow managed to get himself a normal life. Crowley knew that almost every hunter wound up dead one way or another - well technically they _all_ did in the end - but somehow... Dean had done it.

And he'd left Sam in the pit.

Sam.

Crowley's Sam.

The man he'd gone through hellfire for: literally. Sam with his endless optimism and his gentle nature and all those dreams that his cursed genetics and family had ruined. The life of a scholar stolen from him by fate. Crowley had pitied Sam, pitied him intensely. It wasn't fair, and it was partially this... this... anger he felt on the man's behalf that had led him to rebel.

That and Castiel.

(Those voices...)

It wasn't exactly a surprise when the new Lucifer turned up at his side, staring in at Dean with him.

"You shouldn't be here, Cas."

"Why is that?"

"I can't be seen with you. Not... not after what happened."

"That's why I am here, Crowley."

Reluctantly, Crowley turned to his visitor. The eternal thorn in his side: Castiel.

In a way, he was worse than Lucifer. Crowley had been able to resist Lucifer. When the brightest and boldest of them had fallen, Crowley had been tempted to follow in his footsteps... but something made him stop.

Cas, on the other hand... even awkward, bumbling, backwards-tie wearing as he was...

"I know things must be difficult for you, now," Cas went on.

"Oh, no, everything is just _fabulous_ for me. You know what angels love? They love it when you destroy the plans they've been working on for... oh... two thousand years and change... they also love it when you wind up killing a few of them and locking their precious Michael away in a cage and they _really_ enjoy it when somehow you manage to avoid being punished or having your wings ripped from you or even getting told to sit in the naughty corner because **God isn't listening**."

Crowley stopped. He was a little red in the face, suddenly, and Castiel was looking at him curiously.

"I can change things."

"I don't want to hear."

"I can change things for both of us."

"You run _Hell_."

"And you could run Heaven."

"I don't want to run Heaven."

"True." Castiel tilted his head in that awkward-bird way he had. "I suppose you do not. But you also do not want Raphael to run it. And perhaps you would make a better Archangel than you think."

Crowley knew it was a bad idea, but he followed Castiel anyway.

***

Crowley had been in a bit of a hurry last time he'd come through Hell, but he was not surprised to see it had barely changed a bit. What was different was everywhere they went people bowed obsequiously to Castiel. It was... sickening, really, seeing how much of an ego trip this was. Clearly Castiel wanted Crowley to see how much people fawned over him, how much 'power' he had.

But if he really had all that power, why would he call Crowley down to discuss... terms?

"I can bring Sam back," Cas told him, as they left the screaming masses behind and moved into the grandiose office he'd claimed. It sat high above the pit with wide windows out so he could look down, and everyone else could look up. "I know you felt... attached to him, for whatever reason."

"How?"

"I have... my means..." Cas said, waving him off. "I can restore him."

"And what about Lucifer?"

"He would remain in the trap." There was something oddly final in the way he said that. Crowley wondered if this coup was a little more personal than he had originally thought.

"I'm not making a deal with you, Cas. And I have nothing to give you, anyway. I helped you stop Lucifer and Michael, but that's as far as it goes."

"How long do you think it will be before the angels burn your Grace out? Before they rip your wings from you and send you falling to Earth to live amongst all those humans they despise so much? Crowley... I know you are afraid. I know they have been cruel. I know you are the only one in Heaven with the sense to see this is _wrong_."

"Am I?"

"Did God smite you for your rebellion?"

Crowley shrugged. 

"He brought you back."

"Someone did."

"Someone not God?"

Crowley bit his lip and turned away. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about much these days. Things he had believed in from the very start - from _let there be light_ \- all of it was confusion, now. No more black and white. No more yes and no. No more right and wrong.

He'd worked with Castiel before.

"You need power. I need power. I know where we can get some, but I need your help."

"Where, precisely, would we be drawing this magical power from, Cas?"

"Purgatory."

"And you need me...?"

"To keep the Winchesters off my track. To help with the research and procurement." A pause. "To be God to my Devil."

It was ridiculous. It was.

Crowley shook his head.

Cas convinced him anyway.

***

How much longer was this going to take? They had already been here for hours. God - hah - he was funny - only knew where Sam had gone to, and Dean was ignoring him most of the time. Not that Cas had much to say. What did you say when 'Please do not continue' was ignored? He could shout abuse, sure, but that had never been his style. He could threaten bloody vengeance, but that also wasn't his style.

Cas wasn't sure what his style really _was_ right now. He'd thought it was the awe and respect of his underlings, but his underlings didn't know where he was right now and he had no way to contact them. And Dean didn't respect him. Dean looked at him like...

"Time for your next booster, buddy boy."

Cas didn't even bother to reply.

***

"Crowley, will you just tell us what the hell is going on?"

"Holy fire? Seriously?" 

Their guardian angel was standing - arms folded across his chest like a toddler having a tantrum - glaring out from their homemade trap. 

"You've been hard to keep track of," Sam said, unable to meet the angel's eyes.

"I have been rather busy, you know. Overhauling all of Heaven isn't exactly child's play. Not that you two seem to care, at all. You think the whole _universe_ revolves around your--"

"Enough," Sam said, softly. "Come on, man. This isn't like you."

"This _is_ precisely like me. This is as me as it gets. I don't know what ridiculous false ideas you've got over the years, Sam, but angels have the same political bullshit to deal with as you quarrelsome brats. It's just that _our_ family feuds last for _millennia_."

"We know something is up," Dean went on. "And we need you to be up front with us."

"You _need_? What about what _I_ need, Dean?"

"Well, what do you need?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"You heard him," Sam joined in. "We're in this together, Crowley. We got your back, like you got ours."

"It's not that simple."

"Make it that simple," Bobby suggested. "C'mon. We're not useless, and you know it. Tell us what's going on."

Crowley looked like he wanted the Earth to swallow him up, but it wasn't forthcoming. Two fingers rubbed over his brow. "It's just... it's complicated."

"So break it down," Sam urged.

"Heaven is in uproar. Sam... you were stuck in the Pit... Raphael is on the warpath... I didn't know what else to do..."

"So you're working with Castiel." Dean did not sound surprised.

Crowley found he couldn't meet any of their eyes. "Sounds... preposterous when you say it aloud."

"Dude, you know he's bad news." Sam didn't so much look betrayed as... resigned. "He's the King of Hell, Crowley. Surely there's some other way."

"I'm not as powerful as you would like to believe I am," Crowley finally admitted, sounding disgusted with himself. "I know, I know. I'm utterly fabulous in everything I do... but I'm not an Archangel and Raphael burned through all my contacts pretty damn quickly and..."

"What was the deal?"

"Purgatory. We open it up and take half the souls each. Heaven and Hell still stay as balanced as they are... but I get to take control and make sure they don't go after Michael and Lucifer again." 

"That wasn't all, was it?" Sam paced closer to the fire.

"I couldn't leave you in the Pit, Sam."

"You should have, you know."

"Yeah, well... maybe I got used to your ridiculously useless ways."

"We can still pull this together," Dean said. "He doesn't have to know we know. We can... we can... I dunno. Stop him?"

"I made a deal, Dean."

"So?"

"I don't break my promises."

"But he's the King of Hell!" Bobby rolled his eyes in disgust. "You really think he'll keep his?"

"Yes."

"And you think him with all that extra juju...?" Dean asked.

"I can keep him in check. If I'm equally as powerful. I don't particularly _want_ the big job, but he was right that I don't want any of my siblings in the hot seat, either."

"We'll think of something," Sam muttered, dousing the flames.

But Crowley went as soon as he could flee.

***

This was the fifth shot. Cas wondered how many there would be? Seven was a magical number, of course, as was twelve and even thirteen. It could be any number. It could literally be a thousand, but he thought Dean would be dead before they counted that high. 

Cas could feel the years behind him, and he supposed that was Dean's blood coursing through the meatsuit. He could hear echoes of things gone long before. Flashes. He blinked the intruding thoughts away. Cas had no time for the past. What had happened had happened. What mattered was only _now_ and the moment that followed.

There was too much history to remember it all.

Too much.

Cas remembered Hell. He remembered fear. He remembered doubt. Things he had locked up in tiny boxes inside, refusing to let them surface. Denying his own feelings, acting like the soldier he was. He remembered pain. He remembered loss. He remembered...

The blood flickered through him and he closed his eyes, refusing to admit the tears that swam behind his lids.

***

Here they were, the night of the full moon and the jar of blood ready. The words of the spell written down, set to go.

Here they were, angel and the King of Hell, staring one another down.

"Well, Cas, looks like it's time we got this show on the road..."

"I don't think so."

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "You know we have to do it tonight. It's part of the ritual."

"No, Crowley, _we_ have to do nothing. _I_ will be performing the ritual."

"We had a deal..."

"We did. I am renegotiating the terms."

"You can't... _do_ that!"

"I have the eldest Winchester's woman and child. If you try to prevent me, I will have both of them tortured in front of him until he begs me to take him to Hell."

"Cas!"

"There will be no debate, Crowley. Now hand me the vial and be gone."

Crowley's heart seemed to constrict in his vessel. Here - after he had reassured the Winchesters this was their best play - and he'd overlooked something as simple as... _family_. He thought he'd locked down the terms of their arrangement, thought he'd taken care of every chesspiece on the board. But no. Here was Cas, screwing him over.

"Not unless the woman and child go free."

"They will."

"How can I trust that?"

Cas took the vial from his hands anyway. "You can't, Crowley."

And then he was gone.

***

"You know, doing this without my consent makes you just as culpable as me," Cas pointed out, in lieu of anything better to say. 

"Yeah. Well. I figure I've got enough black marks against my name anyhow. If saving the world every couple of years isn't good enough to wipe 'em out then... this isn't going to make a difference either way..."

"How do you justify your moral stance when you are vicious murderers, Dean?"

"We kill bad things."

"Only bad things?"

"Monsters."

"And are you not monsters to someone else?"

"...to monsters, Cas."

"So you get my point."

"Not really. You're not making any sense."

He frowned. "Neither are you."

"At last... something we agree on."

Dean walked up with the sixth shot.

"How many of those are there?"

"Eight."

"I see."

"Is it... can you feel anything?"

"No, not really," he lied. "Perhaps you are doing something wrong."

"We'll see in couple more hours."

"I suppose we will."

***

"What the hell, man?"

"It went better than expected," Cas said, brushing down his trenchcoat. "Now you just have to kill the rest of the Leviathans."

"Where the hell are Sammy and Crowley?"

"Where do you think, Dean?"

"I thought the whole point of me asking was because I _don't know_."

"Well, think it through logically. Dick is dead. Where does Dick go when he dies?"

"...Purgatory?"

"Precisely."

"And Sam and Crowley?"

"They likely are there, too."

"We gotta save 'em!"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because... because Crowley saved your ass back there. Because even after you stabbed him in the back for Purgatory, he still had your six."

"I was capable of defeating the Leviathans on my own, Dean."

"Yeah, like hell you were."

"Exactly."

"Cas, cut the shit. You're going to help me get them back or so help me God..."

The King of Hell thought about it. Without Crowley around in Heaven, who knew who the next in line to the throne would be? At least in Crowley he understood how the angel worked. He was familiar. He was... known. 

"Kill the Leviathans, and then we will talk."

And Castiel left Dean utterly alone in the world.

***

Purgatory was almost worse than Hell. At least in Hell, Crowley had known Castiel would keep him safe. He didn't know how he was so sure of it, but he was. Here in Purgatory, every nasty little thing that didn't belong in Hell - and most of them with good reason to hate his human Hunter, someone who had put many of their brethren in here in the first place - would chase them mercilessly.

Poor Sam was exhausted. Crowley did everything he could to keep him safe, fighting off any monster that came close. Not that Sam was defenceless, no, but Crowley felt responsible for him being here. Responsible because he'd let him down. He'd let him get sucked into this pit when he should have kept him safe. Responsible because he'd been sucked into _that_ pit, when he should have kept him safe. And then he'd gone and screwed everything up by making a deal with the devil and bringing him back all... _wrong_.

Crowley was sure he was the worst guardian angel ever appointed. If it was possible, he would have gone up to God himself and apologised and demanded someone better be given the job. Because he sure as hell wasn't up to it.

Then all of a sudden... _something_ appeared.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Oh, please. Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and come with me," the Reaper told him.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I come under the instruction of Dean Winchester and the King of Hell. Now are you and the giant there going to come, or do I go back and tell them you weren't interested in escaping?"

Dean and... Cas? Working together? And offering a way out?

Crowley could barely believe his luck, but he wasn't going to say no.

"Let me get Sam..."

***

Castiel remembered. He remembered it hurting. Remembered the sudden transition from 'fine' to 'agony'. He remembered knowing pain - true pain - for the first time. He remembered the smell of sulphur and the sound of screaming, back when both things meant something. Back when it was more than just background noise. He stirred uncomfortably, trying to dampen down the sensations, trying to focus on the here and now.

Trying not to get lost inside his own head.

He'd done some bad things, over the years. Some really bad things.

Hurt people.

Lots of people.

Lots of screaming people.

Begging for mercy.

Begging for it to stop.

Begging for him to take away the pain.

He pulled at the restraints for all he was worth, jaw clenched tight to keep in the words. The words that threatened for the first time to bubble over. Whatever Dean was doing to him, it was working.

_It hurt._

"Maybe you'll come out of this... better..." Dean said, though he didn't sound like he had much faith in that at all.

Castiel just growled in response. He didn't want to come out of it 'better'. He wanted it all to go away. Wanted the pain to go away. Wanted the ache in his chest to stop. Wanted the sense of peace and right and good to come back. Wanted...

"Just... do it," he grit through his teeth, eyes shut and throat offered. Not because he wanted it. But because he wanted it to be over.

That.

Nothing more.

That.

***

"This is ridiculous, Cas. Ridiculous."

"No, no it isn't," Cas argued. 

"Just because you got us out of Purgatory... it does not give you a free pass to do anything you want."

Cas shrugged. "I'm not asking for that."

"Go back to Hell."

Crowley refused to talk to him any further, so Cas sighed.

Fine.

It would be as it used to be.

Heaven and Hell... 

...and no collusion.

***

The race was on in earnest. Two tablets. One for Heaven, one for Hell. Castiel put all his resources behind it, determined that he was going to win. Once and for all. It was going to be settled and there would be no further doubting who was in control of the universe.

Him.

Not some absent father figure, and not some jumped up little angel who was only in power because Castiel had - quite inadvertently - either wiped out or helped with the destruction of anyone else who might take a hold of Heaven. 

It was going to be Castiel. 

And so he ploughed on. Took the Prophet and the tablets and anything else he wanted. He declared all out war on the Winchesters and every demon was set to 'kill', even if a hundred would die in the attempt. All it would take would be two lucky blows and he'd wipe those miserable humans from his life.

Then all that would be left would be Crowley.

Cas didn't have a plan for that. 

Yet.

***

"But what is the third trial?" Crowley asked Metatron, watching the other angel like a hawk as they sat in the bar waiting for Cupid to show.

"You'll see."

"No, not this... _Dean's_?"

"Why are you so worried about their trials?"

"I like to know everything that is going on," Crowley replied. "I'm tired of being kept in the dark."

"You really want to know?"

"Yes. And I won't help you with these trials of _yours_ until you tell me."

Something was not right about this angel. Crowley did not trust him. Crowley did not trust anyone, really, but there was... something particularly untrustworthy about Metatron.

"Alright. They have to cure a demon."

"They... what?"

"It can be done. There's a ritual."

"You don't understand..."

Cupid walked in, and Metatron reached for Crowley's cuff...

...but the angel was already gone.

***

"Stop!" Crowley yelled, bursting in. "Put that vial down!"

Dean turned, frowning. "Crowley... this is the last one. I do this and it's over. It's all over."

"It won't work."

"Like hell it won't," the human said, hotly. "Crowley this isn't the damn time."

"It won't work because you need to cure a demon, moron."

"Yeah, and I got the King of Hell tied up and waiting. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"He's not a demon, dipshit."

Behind Dean, Cas laughed. "Good of you to remember, Crowley."

"What the fuck do you mean?" Dean glared at him, then turned to stare down at Cas who was panting heavily in the chair.

"He might be lying to himself, but he's not a demon," Crowley repeated. "Even a fallen angel is still an angel. He's just... forgotten how to fly."

***

"Castiel... please... listen to me..."

The headstrong seraph wrapped his fingers around his brother's wrist, tugging ever onwards. 

"Lucifer is right, Crowley. We are nothing but slaves. We are made to clean up after those _monkeys_. Those monkeys who betrayed God and he still lets them live and come back to Heaven."

"Because they are capable of _good_ , Castiel. They are not all sinners."

"Yes, yes they are. And no angel has ever sinned, but do we get a day of rest?"

"We don't need any. It's our glory to serve God."

"You're cattle, just like the rest of them. We are so much better..."

"Castiel, please. Please just listen to me. Please don't go."

"I'm going, with or without you."

Castiel stared at Crowley, begging with his eyes for the other to see the truth. To see they were trapped here. To see they were nothing but slaves.

No free will for angels.

Only men.

...and those brave enough to rebel.

Crowley wept and shook his head, grief burning through him like a wildfire. "I cannot. I cannot follow you there. Please do not ask me to. Please... stay with me..."

But Castiel shrugged Crowley free.

Love was not enough.

Even for angels.

Love was not enough to keep them whole.

***

"I'm not an angel any more," Cas argued. "I'm the King of Hell."

"Lucifer was still an angel," Crowley snapped back, "and so are you. I'll prove it to you."

"How?"

" _Stand up_."

Cas rolled his eyes and lifted his hands - the chains clunking loudly as he pulled them to their limits.

"Those are warded against demons, Castiel."

"Yes. Like I said."

"You are not a demon."

"I am not an angel."

" _Stand. Up._ You stupid sonofabitch. Stand up and stop all this ridiculous posturing. I should never have let you go..."

Cas sighed. He was going to have to prove this one way or another. He pulled at the cuffs but they didn't give.

Dean was looking back and forth, trying to work out what the hell to do. "Crowley, I don't..."

" _Stand the hell up you faithless angel,_ " Crowley growled out, and then called his name in a tongue that shattered the glass in the church and had Dean ducking for cover.

"That is not my name."

"It is, it always was."

"That is _not my name_."

"You are an idiot, angel. And so am I. Get the hell up and let's fix this once and for all."

Cas snarled and then - he looked down.

He was standing. He was standing and the cuffs and collar were rattling on the floor. "You did this," he said, accusingly.

"No," Crowley replied. "You did. Step outside of that demon trap and come home."

It had been so long. So very long. Cas was sure he was no longer an angel, no longer able to go back to Heaven. He had stormed out in all his pride and wrath, chasing after Lucifer's tail... so long ago. 

So many lifetimes ago.

He remembered the day as if it was yesterday. Remembered the sound of Crowley grieving his loss, as though he were dead. He was dead. The angel he had been had died that day. No?

Cas closed his eyes and reached inside himself. There was hurt, there was suffering, there was Hell. There, too, was humanity. The blood of a shriven man, coursing through stolen veins. The blood of Dean.

And deeper... deeper still...

Grace.

Crowley had the sense to stand between him and Dean as the angel found that stuttering spark inside himself and let it out. With a shout of fear and triumph in one, his eyes blazed like the brightest star and his wings spread out to stroke the walls and ceiling in their glory.

Castiel was still an angel.

And Crowley still had faith in him.

He stared over at his brother - his brother who had always loved him, always mourned him - and he pulled his wings back down into his vessel.

Castiel stepped from inside the trap.

He didn't resist when his brother welcomed him home.

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the suit on ElDiablito_SF who needs to stop sending me pictures because it makes the ideas in my head worse.


End file.
